Progression
by victoriaely
Summary: Not everybody likes Carson. After a routine check up, he finds that he's changed, and it's a race against time to undo the damage.
1. Chapter 1

When he entered the infirmary, Rodney found the nurses gathered in an area to the left, whispering among themselves. Looking in the direction they were looking, he saw Carson, one of his doctors and the head nurse talking just as quietly.

"You called for me?" he asked when he reached the centre of the infirmary. Apparently, Elizabeth and John were discussing something, so he was the only one of the Chief Officers available.

Carson nodded and gestured for him to come closer. He waited a moment, looking at the nurses. Carson and the other two didn't seem to notice the strange way the others were observing them, so he asked, "Why are they looking at us like that?"

Carson shook his head as the other doctor answered, "They must have heard something. We'll move to Carson's office and leave them to their gossip."

A few moments later, they were in Carson's office. The only one who was truly comfortable was the other doctor, who sat down on a chair and started arranging the items on Carson's desk. The Scot leaned heavily against one of the two filing cabinets in his office, staring at the floor. The head nurse was a few steps away from the door, stealing glances outside. Rodney was in the middle of the office, not sure how long this meeting would take and thus how comfortable he should make himself.

"Maybe we should close the door and sit down, so we can discuss the matter…" the other doctor suggested, waiting for some sort of response from Carson.

After waiting for a few moments, Rodney mentally closed the door and took one of the empty chairs, presenting it to Carson. "Sit." The Scot complied, not taking his eyes away from the floor.

"Doctor…"

"Andrews."

"Doctor Andrews, can you explain to me why Carson's sitting there like a mannequin?" Rodney asked, growing impatient.

"I'm older," Carson said, but his voice was so low, Rodney had to look at the others to see if they heard it too. The nurse bowed her head, focusing on the pattern on the floor, and Andrews sighed.

"Older than…"

"Older than I was yesterday." Carson seemed strained, as if this admission had taken half of his energy.

"Why yes, I'd think so. We're all older than we were yesterday by exactly… umm… a day," Rodney replied ironically.

"No, Rodney, I'm older by more than a day. I'm forty. Yesterday I was thirty-seven." For the first time, Carson looked at him and he lost all interest in laughing.

"You mean it?"

Carson nodded. The nurse looked away from them and Andrews frowned.

"How? How did you get… this way and how did you notice it?"

"Why don't you sit down, doctor?" Andrews asked, looking pointedly at one of the chairs.

"Okay…" Rodney said, slowly sitting down. "Now can you explain this?"

"I had the flu," Carson started, returning his gaze to the floor. "Actually, it was a pulmonary infection. When we realized it was something serious, we did the usual tests. And since we had a newly discovered scanner, we used it. For the past week, we've been following several parameters. This morning… "

"The scanner showed abnormal cell aging, by roughly three years," the head nurse continued.

"More or less than three years?" Rodney asked, not able to fully comprehend what he was being told.

"More, but that's not important," Andrews answered, visibly annoyed by Rodney's question.

"Oh, what is, then?"

"I'm forty." Carson looked straight into his eyes. "Tomorrow, I'll be forty-five."

Rodney nodded, "How did it happen? Was it related to the… infection?" Rodney asked, trying to divert the discussion to a slightly more useful direction.

"No," Andrews answered, getting up. He retrieved a file from Carson's desk and handed it to Rodney. "We analyzed the virus. It couldn't have done such a thing. After analyzing the samples we had from Carson, we found traces of another substance, something we've been studying for a while now. The Ancients tried to create something that would reverse the aging process caused by the Wraith's feeding process. They created a virus – the one we've been studying. Apparently, they managed to duplicate the aging process, but with a slower effect."

"But you have a way to treat this, right? You know how to undo it, don't you?" Rodney asked, his voice shakier than he intended.

Carson shook his head. "We might be able to stop it, but reversing it is… impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. You can't say that…" Rodney knew that Carson didn't give up. Carson couldn't give up.

"We're working on it, but it's slow. If we had a month, a year, maybe I'd be more optimistic," Carson said impersonally. "I won't live past the eighth day," he said, finally looking up. "I'm not healthy enough to hope I'll live to be ninety."

"We're doing everything we can. In less than an hour, we'll have more information on how the virus developed and get a better idea on how to counter it," Andrews said. "Maybe you should rest a bit, Carson."

The Scot nodded, but didn't move.

"We'll leave now," Andrews said as he guided the head nurse outside. He nodded at Rodney and closed the door behind them.

Moving his chair closer to Carson, Rodney sat down and placed a hand on his friend's right shoulder. "I know it's a dumb question, but are you okay?"

"Not sure." For a few minutes Carson was quiet. He sighed deeply, slouching his shoulders. "If I had known that I'd die in five hours, it would probably be easier to get used to the thought. But this way… I don't have enough time to save myself, but I have enough time to know I'm going to die."

"There must be something we can do, there must be a solution," Rodney said, not ready to give up.

"Dr. Andrews said we'll have the results soon. And do you know what those results will say? That the virus was there, dormant, waiting for a few days to pass so when it finally set in, the source couldn't be traced." Carson's explanation was almost academic: impersonal, said in an even tone.

"Yes, but you know exactly where it came from."

"We know what container it came from, aye. But how it got inside my body…"

"Have you cut yourself, or done something while handling it that… you know… maybe you made a mistake and it got in your bloodstream," Rodney asked, hoping that talking about this would help Carson cope with it – to be honest, he needed help to cope with this just as much.

"I wasn't on the team that handled the substance," Carson explained. "I just analyzed some lab results, told them which way to continue the research… it wasn't my project."

"Is it airborne?" Rodney asked, panic obvious in his voice.

"No. It must have gotten into my body, into my bloodstream."

"Do you know when this could have happened? You mentioned the scans… would you have known about it, if it was dormant?"

Carson frowned, considering Rodney's words. "More or less. I suppose this happened after the first scan was taken."

"Can't you check it or -" Rodney stopped as he saw the concentration on his friend's face. "What?"

"The only way I could have got it – the only way it could have got into my body was through an injection," he said, still lost in his thoughts.

"So you're saying someone injected you without your knowledge?" Rodney asked, appalled.

"The infection… I was given shots… one every day for a week," Carson provided, tapping on his laptop's keyboard.

"So someone gave you that instead of the medicine you were supposed to take?"

"Maybe, but I loaded them myself, from new, sealed vials. There's no way -"

"Let's look at it from another perspective. Can you see who had access to the place where you held the virus?" Rodney asked, getting up. "I can get someone on my team to look at the video footage if you don't."

"We should have a log." Carson opened his laptop and studied the screen intently. "The only one who wasn't supposed to go there is Dr. Perkins. He opened it on… Tuesday… the fifth."

"And that was… ten days ago," Rodney supplied.

Blood drained from Carson's face as he read the information onscreen. "He must have changed the syringes."

Reaching for his comm., Rodney contacted Sheppard, "Get Dr. Perkins and take him… somewhere under guard."

"_Why?_" Sheppard asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Malpractice," Rodney answered, looking at Carson. The Scot nodded, seeming to be far away from the current discussion. "It's complicated, Sheppard, just get him there."

"_Okay, I'll take him to the brig. See you there._"

"Carson, Sheppard will have Perkins in custody in a few minutes. I think we should ask him a few things."

Carson nodded again. "Go ahead. I'll go see if Dr. Andrews needs help."

Rodney left Carson alone, hurrying to the lower level of Atlantis, where the holding cells were located. Maybe this man had some answers. Maybe he knew how to undo the damage that was already done. Rodney knew it was unlikely, that someone who did something so elaborate couldn't just change their minds, but still…


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Many thanks for the reviews :)

* * *

As he entered the cell, he saw the young doctor standing there, a wide grin on his face. 

"Why's he so happy?" Sheppard asked, looking at Rodney.

"He tried to kill Carson."

"Well, he didn't succeed, so…"

"You and I wouldn't be here unless my plan had succeeded," Perkins replied, the smile disappearing from his face.

"Your plan has succeeded so far. But we're going to stop it," Rodney said, clenching his fists.

"You can't stop it," the doctor said defiantly. "He will die."

Rodney stormed out of the cell, unable to look at the man any more. He heard Sheppard following him and as soon as they were in the hallway, he stopped.

"Will you tell me what the hell is going on?" Sheppard asked impatiently.

"That idiot found a whacky drug the Ancients were working on and switched Carson's syringes, so he ended up injecting himself with it." Seeing the confusion on Sheppard's face, he explained, "Carson got the drug instead of the antibiotics he was supposed to."

"And what does the drug do?" Sheppard asked.

"Ages him – five years each day. Carson's forty today. Actually, he was this morning. He's probably forty two now."

"You have to be kidding." Sheppard looked at him incredulously. After a few moments of staring at him, he turned around and started walking towards the cell. "I'll find out everything that bastard knows."

- -- - -- -

Rodney had explained the situation to Elizabeth, mostly filling in the gaps with "they hope they'll find out soon" or "maybe Perkins will tell us". Now, he watched her as she stared out the glass panels in the control room. She was frowning, biting her lower lip from time to time in a quite uncharacteristic gesture. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, as if she was cold.

"I don't understand why he would do such a thing… why to Carson," she finally said. "Did he give you any reason?"

"No, but to be honest, I don't see the importance of this right now. We should find a solution, something…"

"A solution to a problem whose cause we don't know," Elizabeth said softly. "I suppose we'll have all the time in the world to find out why after this whole madness ends."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each caught in his own thoughts, until Rodney's comm. activated and Sheppard asked, "Where are you, Rodney? We need to talk."

"Elizabeth's office. Come here if you want to."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

If Sheppard had found out something useful, he would have told them over the comm., or he would have gone straight to Carson, to tell him. Sitting and discussing this in Weir's office was about as far from helping as they could get. Still, here they were, doing nothing.

"That man is the most despicable human being I have ever encountered," Sheppard said as he sat down in a chair.

"Did he tell you why he did it?" Elizabeth asked, rising from her chair.

"Nope. Just that he's happy to see his plan worked. That nothing else matters now." Sheppard shook his head and rose from his chair. "I can't possibly imagine why someone would do such a thing… to Beckett! He's going out of his way to be nice and it turns back and bites him in the ass and I told him that -"

"John…" Elizabeth interrupted him as they all turned to look at Carson, who had just entered the room. He was not visibly different, although the air of resignation that he had worn earlier seemed to be replaced by a deep worry.

"I want to talk to him," he announced simply.

"Yeah, and give him the satisfaction?" John asked, his tone slightly higher than it should have been. Elizabeth was obviously worried about the way things were progressing, but didn't seem to know what to do.

"I think you've made your point, Colonel," Rodney said, scowling at John. "Why do you want to talk to him?" he then asked, turning to face Carson.

"If I'll die, I might as well know why," Carson said, looking straight into his eyes. "I think he'll want to tell me. As a matter of fact, I think he'll enjoy telling me," Carson added, bowing his head and heavily sitting in the chair Sheppard had just vacated. "As the Colonel kindly pointed out, I try to be nice," Carson said without any trace of reproach in his voice. "I really can't imagine why he would go to all that trouble. If we wanted me dead, he could have shot me; gone off world and lost me in some cave, something like that…"

"He didn't seem to be worried that we know who he is, that we managed to get to him," Rodney observed.

"He has no reason to. He replaced a syringe. That's malpractice, at most," Carson explained. "Nobody is going to be able to say what the content of that syringe was, so he'll be off."

"By the looks of it, he wanted us to know it was him," Sheppard said.

"Aye. I'll go and talk to him," Carson said, getting up.

"Tell us what you find out, Carson, and please be careful," Elizabeth said, awkwardly showing him to the door. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Elizabeth said, "We should be more careful, I'm sure he doesn't need us to be so… rough."

"Yes, maybe I didn't say it the right way, but it's true. You can't be nice and survive here, Elizabeth." John stopped, understanding what he had said. And for the first time, everything that was happening sank in. "Is it really… There's nothing you found? Is he really going to die?"

"We have nothing right now. And unless we find something really good, really quick, he's not going to make it," Rodney said.

"Carson could be dead in a week." John stated what all of them were thinking. "What do you do when you know something like this?"

"Try to find a solution," Elizabeth replied, absently.

"That's what we're doing right now…" Rodney said, irritated. There was nothing they could do, but he felt the need to do something, nonetheless. Pacing felt like the only option, so he did that.

Sheppard sat down, crossing his arms on his chest. "Lets' see what the guy tells Carson. Maybe we'll have something useful to work with."

- -- - -- -

They waited for less than thirty minutes. Carson slowly walked in, eyes fixed on the floor. "He told me everything."

"Have a seat," Elizabeth invited him.

Carson shook his head and leaned on the wall next to the door. "When I was an intern, I was involved in a car crash. It was pretty bad; I was in hospital for a few months and my older brother, Daniel, died. After the crash, I took it slowly, didn't go into surgery for a while, even after I got the okay from my supervisor. But when I did, something went wrong. I didn't make a mistake, but didn't react as was expected of me… the patient died and I didn't do any surgeries for a few months, waited to get myself together." Carson explained this quickly, in a low voice, as if saying it would awaken some sleeping demons. "Anyway, quite soon after the failed operation, a young woman came to me, asking me to operate on her mother. I couldn't, so I told her no. I couldn't tell her why… Three months afterwards, she came and told me her mother had died, because of me." Carson looked up at them, "It's not that I didn't care, but I had other things that happened then… That was just another bad thing in a line of bad things. I forgot the whole thing until today when Dr. Perkins reminded me. The old woman who died was his grandmother."

"You couldn't have been the only doctor, why didn't another one do it?" Rodney asked.

"Aye, but the others were busy… her condition was worse than we thought, and I was the only one to say no. The others just postponed," Carson explained.

"So he's killing you because he thinks you should have saved her" John asked, shocked.

Carson nodded, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Have you explained this to him," Elizabeth asked.

"Aye. He said he was happy I was going to see what it's like to die with those closest to you unable to do anything to help you, despite all their efforts." Carson stopped for a bit, trying to control his shaky voice. "He said he was happy I was going to be old. Old and incapable of doing anything, feeling my life slip away when I should have been living."

They sat in silence for a moment, unable to say anything. Strangely enough, Perkins' words had summed up the situation better than any of them had. Carson was going to die when he should be alive.

"What are you going to do now?" Rodney asked, bringing them all back to the moment.

"My staff is working on a way to stop the process. Dr. Andrews told me that Radek is searching the database for some references to this drug. I… I was thinking I could go to the mainland. Say goodbye to the Athosians. I might not be able to go later… and I don't want to scare them."

"I can fly you there," John offered.

"Thank you, but I think I'll fly there myself. Not sure when I'll fly another jumper again," Carson said with a bitter smile.

"Don't talk like that, you're going to -"

"Rodney, remember the whole realism thing?" Carson interrupted him. "I don't have enough time to be optimistic."


	3. Chapter 3

It was 2600 hours and Carson was forty-five. Rodney had always felt that what the Wraith were doing was cruel, but this… this went beyond cruel. They had spent most of the night looking in the database for information about the drug. Most of the scientists had objected, complaining they were being taken away from their important projects to look for something they knew nothing about. It all ended about an hour ago when one of the assistants came in with a cup of her coffee in her right hand and her left hand held over her mouth in shock. After staring at them for a few moments, she said, "Dr. Beckett has gray hair"  
There were a few chuckles from the room, one of the men saying, "Didn't know you paid enough attention to his hair to notice a few gray ones"  
The woman frowned and glared at him. "Not a few hairs, you moron, the hair around his temples, and everywhere else… like he's older… like my father had when he was fifty"  
"I saw him this morning and he was okay… all his hair was black," someone else said, and Rodney knew he needed to explain it. So he did. They all listened in awe and, without a word, went back to searching the database. 

At three o'clock in the morning, Rodney sounded the door chime to Carson's quarters. He imagined that the Scot would be busy doing something other than sleeping, and even if he was sleeping, Rodney's latest idea was worth the interruption.  
When he received no answer, he frowned, activating his comm. "This is McKay, is Dr. Beckett in the infirmary"  
i"No,"/i came a nurse's quick answer. i"He should be in his quarters."/i "Okay," Rodney replied, closing the connection. He then proceeded to open the front panel and change the connections. In less than two minutes he was inside, studying the dimly lit room.  
Carson's quarters were composed of a large room, which served both as a bedroom and a living room, a balcony and a small bathroom. The bed sheets were rumpled, but the bed was empty. Rodney checked the bathroom and found it empty. The only other place Carson could be was the balcony. He slowly went outside, careful not to startle the man. Carson was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the cold surface of Atlantis.  
After waiting for a few moments, Rodney said, "Someone could kidnap you, and you wouldn't even notice"  
"Came to check up on me?" Carson asked, looking up at him.  
"I had a brilliant idea," Rodney said smiling. "I suspect you were focused on some pretty interesting stuff if you didn't hear me take your door controls apart"  
"You know… have a lot on my mind," Carson said in a sad voice. "This brilliant idea of yours"  
"The virus was retrieved by one of the teams from PX-671, from some sort of research facility. I thought that we had a better chance finding something useful there than here on Atlantis"  
"Any monsters we should be afraid of?" Carson's voice was almost playful.  
"Monsters?" On any other occasion, Rodney would have been impatient, snappy, but now, sitting on that balcony, in one of the few peaceful moments they were going to have, he wasn't. "Now, why would you say such a thing"  
"Every time we need something, it's protected by some weird creature that usually wants to eat us"  
"No monsters on the planet. Actually, there's nothing alive on the planet. Life sign scan returned nothing"  
"Then we won't find anything," Carson stated, getting up. His hair was completely gray, his face had a few more lines and he looked older. "I'll change into something more adequate and we'll see what you have, okay"  
Rodney nodded and accompanied him inside. Carson looked trough the drawers and took a pair of trousers and a new shirt. "Be out in a minute," he said as he walked inside the bathroom.  
Rodney heard the shower and sat down on Carson's bed, looking out the window at the outline of the city. After a few moments, he called, "That's going to be one long minute if you don't start the shower, Carson"  
"Aye, I'll be with you in a minute"  
"Promises, promises"  
After a few moments of silence, a loud clattering noise was heard and Rodney rushed to the bathroom door. "Are you alright, Carson"  
When no answer came, Rodney knocked on the door, slowly muttering, "You'd better be alive"  
The door whooshed open and Rodney found Carson on the floor of his bathroom, shaking. Slowly kneeling, he reached out his right hand, softly touching Carson. "You okay, Carson"  
Taking a closer look he saw he was sweating, his hands were close to his body, and he was shaking. Rodney held him close until the trembling slowly faded and Carson looked at him, recognition clear in his eyes. "You had a panic attack," Rodney simply said, moving away a bit to give him room to breathe. "Aye," Carson nodded, leaning against the wall. "Why"  
Without a word, Carson got up and looked in the mirror. "That's not me, Rodney. The gray hair and the lines on my face and…" Carson covered his face with his hands, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… this is all so wrong"  
"Yup, but we have to try and fix this. Come on, finish dressing and we'll got to the Mess and grab a bite," Rodney said, slowly moving out of the bathroom. "I'll leave the door open, just in case"  
Carson nodded absently, staring in the mirror. "Carson, we need to get going," Rodney said on a more imperative tone. Carson looked at him and left the bathroom. He stopped after three steps and looked at his hands. "I need a shower"  
"No, you need to get out." Carson was sitting there, in the middle of his room, trying to decide what to do. Just like a kid; a kid with gray hair and less that eight days left to live. "We need to go, Carson, we need to go right now"  
Rodney opened the door and waited as Carson made his way across the room. "See? You'll be okay in no time"  
The Scot was too caught up in his own thoughts to answer. 

Rodney was studying his friend. A few minutes after arriving in the Mess Hall, he apologized for his behaviour, bowing his head as he did. Ever since then, he hadn't lifted his eyes from the plate, nor had he eaten.

"I think it might help if you, or one of the doctors involved in the virus research would come with us on the planet," Rodney said, without receiving any response from Carson. "I know we usually attract all sorts of danger, but we'll be good this time," he said, smiling.

Carson smiled a bit, taking the fork from the side of his plate. "I think I'll come. Although I don't know if I'll enjoy a mission with you that doesn't turn into a race for our lives." He started eating, slowly, without enthusiasm.

"Yes, I know, because all of our missions are so thoroughly enjoyable." Seeing the way Carson was eating, grimacing from time to time, he added, "I'm not your doctor, I won't tell you that you have to eat that."

Carson placed the fork on the plate and smiled weakly. "I was pretending to be normal. Failing at it, obviously." He turned and looked to his right, where two men dressed in the blue uniforms of the science department sat. They nodded as a salute, and Carson nodded back. "I treated them three days ago for minor burns. Now they don't have a clue who I am." Carson sighed, getting up. "I'll be going to my lab, if you want to –"

"I'm done," Rodney interrupted, promptly getting up. "I'll show you what we have when we get to my lab." 


	4. Chapter 4

With a few frowns and surprised faces from the control room, their team and Beckett left Atlantis for PX-671. Elizabeth was reluctant when Rodney asked her to allow Carson to come, but she finally relented.

It felt like everything Carson was doing was a possible last time, so no one had the heart to turn him down.

"She didn't wish us luck this time," Sheppard casually said, holding his P90 with both hands. His remark remained unanswered as they strolled trough the native forest.

Over the past few hours, Rodney had studied each member of his team. Sheppard had his stubborn determination, as he'd had had when he went searching for Sumner and Ford, all masked under a layer of confidence.

Teyla was focused on the task at hand. She seemed happy to have something to do, to be given the possibility of helping somehow. Rodney knew that she had accompanied Carson to the mainland when he said his goodbyes to the Athosians and the experience left her quieter.

Ronon was, if possible, even angrier with the Wraith. It was hard to say how he managed to blame this on the Wraith, but he did, and he was more determined to fight them than he ever was before. Maybe the Wraith were the only thing that Ronon could fight, without regard to all the Earth protocols and the prison protecting the prisoner more than the victim.

Carson was looking around, a bit disappointed. The almost familiar pine trees presented no interest, so Rodney could easily understand the disappointment. Nevertheless, it could be a great excuse for a discussion, so he asked, "Don't like the trees, Carson?"

"They're fine, I just hoped… I hoped it would be a wee bit more like Scotland," Carson said with regret in his voice.

On any other day, Rodney would have retorted with some snarky comment. This day seemed to have an air of finality to it that made that impossible. If they didn't find anything here, they were likely never to find anything about the virus, and the medical team seemed to have hit a dead end with their research.

As for himself, Rodney felt useless. If there was anything he could have done, he would have turned everything around, just to give his friend a chance. But there was nothing he could do.

Carson looked around, searching for familiar bits that would remind him of home. Teyla moved a bit closer to him and said, "You never told me what your home is like."

Carson smiled gratefully, and began telling her of the hills and the sea and the wonderful people of Scotland. The others listened, smiling and adjusting their pace from time to time, accommodating Carson's slower pace.

"So this is just a storage space?" John asked, his voice high with anger and disappointment. "We've wasted an entire day to come here and we find a big room with nothing in it."

It was obvious that John wanted to scream, to hit something, to break something, and he couldn't even find that in the room. 

Teyla placed her right hand on his left shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. "We are all angry, Colonel, but you must control yourself. Carson does not need this."

Carson was outside, sitting on one of the steps, staring at the trees. Rodney knew he was never good at comforting people, but it was something Carson knew as well. It was the intention that mattered. And even though he knew all the good intentions in the world wouldn't be able to undo this, he hoped his would make Carson feel better.

"We'll figure this out, Carson."

"Aye, and maybe it will be useful for someone, someday…" Carson's voice was distant -- cold and ironic.

"You can't lose hope, Carson, you can't -"

"Everyone else has." Carson got up and turned to look at him. "Tell me that you haven't lost hope. Tell me that what John did there wasn't an act of desperation."

Rodney knew he was a bad liar, so he didn't say anything. Carson turned away from him, muttering, "I'm sorry, I just…" He sat down again and fiddled with his tac vest. "You know what I just realized?"

"No," Rodney answered, as he sat down by Carson's side.

"This time tomorrow I'll be older than my mum."

There was nothing Rodney could reply to that, so he waited in silence for Carson to say something else.

A few minutes later, Sheppard came from inside the building, "You up for the trip back now?" He waited until Carson shook his head, then said, "We'll set camp inside, then."

Carson shook his head again in disbelief, "Perkins was right, it is bad to be old, especially when those around you aren't. I'll take a walk, a few steps away from the building."

"Do you want… maybe Teyla could come with you," Rodney offered, knowing the Athosian wouldn't refuse.

"Aye, that would be good."

"That shouldn't have happened," Rodney said bitterly, shaking his head. "This was supposed to be good for him."

"Listen, I'm sorry we got to this point, but if he… he wanted to come here because this could be his last mission, right?" Rodney nodded and John continued, "But he's slowing us down. If we had been alone, we would have done this faster. We lost a lot of time because we couldn't come in a jumper, we didn't need to... we could be in Atlantis, working on something else, trying to help him some other way."

"There is no other way. That's why he came and Elizabeth accepted it. There's nothing else he, or anyone else can do right now. We don't know how this works and… we came here looking for an antidote, not some scribbles on a wall. We wanted a drug. And we have nothing." 

Sheppard's shoulders slumped as he sat down on the cold floor.

Carson returned half an hour later, seeming a little calmer. They silently ate their MREs, probably all looking for a conversation subject that wouldn't bring up Carson's age.

After a while, the silence hurt more than any words would have. Carson said, "I've never been great at conversation, but you never ran out of topics to discuss."

"I was thinking about chocolate," John said.

"Of all the things… You had to… chocolate!" Rodney replied, slightly upset. Of course John would use his earlier admission against him. He had mentioned he wanted to take a bar of chocolate with them, but forgot it on his desk. Now Sheppard was using everything he ever learned about chocolate against him.

"… and the ones with fruit cream are just… " Sheppard closed his eyes, pretending that he actually liked those.

"Och, Colonel, you shouldn't do this to Rodney," Carson intervened, smiling broadly.

"Why not?" John asked, an innocent look on his face. "After all, I could be mean," Sheppard stopped and looked at him mischievously and then continued, "I could ask him about white chocolate."

"That's not chocolate, that's a… a… mockery." Truth be told, Rodney didn't really care about chocolate now, but it was nice to see everyone smiling again, so he played along.

After a few more minutes of banter, Carson settled in his sleeping bag, apologizing. "I'm a wee bit tired, I'll talk to you in the morning."

He fell asleep almost instantly and the rest of them watched him in silence. His hair was now completely grey, and the lines on his face were even more visible as the fire's light was playing over his face.

Sheppard muttered something, hitting the ground with his fist in frustration. He just waved his hand at Rodney's inquisitive look and fumbled with his sleeping bag. He muttered a morose "good night" and turned his back to them, settling inside the bag.

A few moments later, Teyla did the same and Ronon quietly said, "Go to sleep McKay, I'll keep watch."

Rodney nodded, although he knew he had no chance of falling asleep. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, knowing the Satedan wouldn't be fooled.

After five minutes of tossing, he got up and went to Ronon's side, at the room's entrance.

"Can't sleep, McKay?" Dex asked without looking at him.

"Every time I look at him, I remember something that we went through together," Rodney admitted.

"That's not bad."

"Well, no, it isn't. But it would be better if I remembered all those things after he's well." Rodney sighed, looking at the ground in front of him. "How do you do it?" he asked after a short break.

"Do what?" Ronon asked, his voice blank.

"Get over the dying. I mean, I've seen people die, but not like this… " Rodney turned towards the runner, hoping to see that the man understood his question and wouldn't ask further.

"The living shouldn't worry about the dead. Or death. They should fight it."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "And the difference is…?"

"Worrying is what you and Beckett do. Fighting is what we should be doing. All of us."

The Satedan's words were as close to an admonishment as they had ever been. He was right, but it was easier to do the right thing when you were alone and had little to lose. Rodney sighed, getting up. This had been another midnight talk that did nothing to ease his sleep. 


	5. Chapter 5

Morning came too soon, and they all woke more tired than they were when they fell asleep. Well, all but Carson. Unlike the others who were sad and silent, the Scot seemed almost happy. He was rummaging through his pack, preparing the breakfast and keeping himself busy with various little things.

After they ate, they started the trek back to the gate. It went a bit better than the one they did the previous day, mainly because they knew where they were going.

They made it to Atlantis in time to have lunch, after which each of them went on his own way: Teyla on the mainland, Ronon and Sheppard to some soldiery task, Rodney to his lab and Carson to the infirmary.

At 2000 hours, Rodney sounded the chime to Carson's quarters. He had spent the last seven hours searching the database and came up empty-handed.

Rodney decided the best thing to do was to talk to Carson, see if there was something he could do to help. The Scot was sitting as his desk, staring at a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked, not sure if he should move closer and see for himself or wait for Carson's invitation.

"Trying to write something." The Scot paused for a few moments, then explained, "I thought I could write a few words to my mum, explain as much as I could without upsetting the SGC."

Rodney went by his side and looked at the empty paper. "It's hard to find the right words, isn't it?" he asked sympathetically.

"Aye, but that's not the reason why it's empty," Carson answered in a shaky voice. "I just can't see well enough anymore." Tears started falling on his cheeks as he explained, "I've been trying to write the bloody letter for the past two hours. I could have typed it, but anybody could type a letter, I just wanted… it should be more personal than that." He was shaking and Rodney feared another attack was coming.

Taking him by the shoulders, Rodney guided him towards one of the armchairs in the room and sat him down, "You need to calm down, so you can tell me what I should write. She'll understand, I'm sure."

Carson just looked at him, not knowing what he should do. Finally, he nodded, whispering a soft "Thank you."

Rodney sat on the chair Carson had occupied and took the pen in his right hand. "When you're ready," he said softly.

"Dear Mum," Carson began, but couldn't continue. He got up and took a glass from the counter, filling it with water. After a few sips, he took a chair and moved next to Rodney at the desk. "I can't write the letter, so Rodney has offered to write it. If you read this -"

"Shouldn't you explain who I am?" Rodney questioned, looking at him.

"She knows," Carson said, putting the glass on the desk. "If you're reading this, I'm dead."

Rodney raised the pen from the paper and turned to look at him again. "A bit blunt, don't you think?"

"She'll get this together with the envelope from the Air Force, the one with the black frame and… you know. I think she'll know it."

"I thought I could… I would go and tell her," Rodney said, with the words barely coming out, as if they were sandpaper against his throat.

Carson smiled, "That would be nice, Rodney, but you shouldn't go to all that trouble."

Rodney shook his head in an undefined motion, meaning something between 'you're insane to think I wouldn't' and 'I hope I never have to'.

"Let's move on with this, and then we'll talk about this later, shall we?" Carson asked, a calm expression on his face. "Did you write that part?"

Rodney shook his head, setting the pen down to write.

"I can't tell you what happened, as you know, but you shouldn't worry. I would have come home if I could have, but I couldn't. I hope that you'll forgive me. I hoped things would get fixed, that everything would be all right again, but as we both know, we're all too stubborn for that. Maybe Sarah and Jamie will understand, but I want you to know I don't regret what I said."

Rodney looked at him, quizzical look on his face.

"My younger brother and sister… we had a little fight before I left to work with the SGC… long story," Carson explained. "We haven't spoken for the past few years."

Rodney smiled bitterly, understanding it too well. "I know how that is."

"Aye, but you know it from the accusing end. Moving on, now. Send my… no, take care of Mark, Andy, Tess and Todd for me and -"

"Who are they?" Rodney asked, wondering if he got the spellings right.

"My siblings," Carson answered simply.

"Six… you were seven kids?" Rodney asked, surprised. He had known about Mark and Andy from some of Carson's childhood tales, but not about the others. "And you were the third youngest?"

"No, I'm the oldest." The smile faded from his lips. "Always was." Tears were coming to his eyes again and he knew he couldn't go on for long.

"I love you, mum and I hope you were proud of me." Carson took the pen from Rodney's hand when he stopped writing and wrote at the end of the letter 'Love, Carson'.

Rodney carefully folded the paper. "Do you want me to leave you to rest or do you want to talk?"

Carson shook his head. "Don't feel like talking now."

Rodney rose from his seat and was headed for the door, when Carson stopped him, "We should talk about something, though. I know it's not much, but I have a few things, and I think you should have my -"

"No! We're not talking about that!" Rodney reacted, more violently than he had intended, turning around to look at Carson.

"You don't know what it's like… I have to think… there are only a few things I can control right now, Rodney, too few for my liking, and I'd like to be able to do something about some of them. As stupid as it may sound, I care about some of these things, and I'd be happy to know they weren't thrown out by some hurried marine. It's all that will be left."

Rodney wanted to say so many things, but he couldn't make Carson change his mind. He muttered, "Not yet," and left.

Carson shook his head and emptied his desk, making room for the things he wanted to give to his friends. If he was able to keep himself from falling asleep, maybe the sorting would be done by morning. 


	6. Chapter 6

John Sheppard entered the lab loudly, startling Rodney. "Were you sleeping?" the Colonel asked, taking a seat.

"Almost," McKay admitted.

"I thought you were supposed to search the database and find something…"

"Well, I decided to check up on Carson and it didn't go very well," Rodney said, rubbing his eyes.

"You had a fight with him?"

"No," Rodney answered, shaking his head. "He wanted to write a letter to his mother, but he couldn't see."

"Couldn't see… what?" John asked, puzzled.

"The letters. His vision isn't… perfect. He's just… old." Rodney's arms weren't moving around when he explained, his eyes weren't shimmering. "He asked me to stay while he gave me the things he wanted me to have. He's giving his things away!"

Sheppard bowed his head. "We have something."

Rodney looked at him, surprised. "And you waited for ten minutes to tell me this because…"

"The chances of it working are… well… slim."

"Well… what is it?" Rodney stood and moved a few steps closer to Sheppard, as if that would make him talk.

"Remember what happened to me… with that Wraith?"

Rodney frowned, waiting for more. When Sheppard didn't say anything, he asked, "Which one? There were quite a few of them moving around."

"The one that fed on me… with Kolya."

"Oh, yeah, I remember," Rodney said, sitting down again.

"You said the virus Carson has is reproducing the aging process caused by a wraith feeding." Rodney nodded and John continued, "We know that can be reversed by a wraith. Now, we know that wraith may be willing to do it… if we can give him the right motivation."

Rodney looked at him for a while, obviously processing the information. "You think we could make him do that for Carson?"

John sighed, "I think we won't find anything better, and we're running out of time. I talked to Andrews, after we came back. He asked me if I noticed something strange about Carson… "

Rodney huffed, showing his lack of respect for the man.

"He said that due to the rate at which his body's aging, the strain on him is a lot bigger than it normally would be."

"That's why he was so sure he wouldn't make it past the eighth day," Rodney said quietly. "Where are we going to find your friend?"

John looked at him. "The only place where I know to look is where we left him."

"That's crazy! You can't go to that planet, you just… can't." Carson's comments were ignored by Colonel Sheppard and his team as they underwent their pre-mission exam.

The Scot was in the middle of his infirmary, dressed in his usual white lab coat, but without any actual medical responsibilities due to his condition. Nobody could send him away, though.

"Colonel, you can't risk the lives of four people – including yourself – to try and save one," Carson said, pleadingly.

"I think you wouldn't argue so much if that life wasn't yours."

Carson frowned at him and John wondered if that was caused by his words or by the fact that the doctor couldn't see him well enough.

"Doc, none of us would be here if we didn't want to be."

Teyla and Ronon nodded and Rodney smiled broadly. "I never thought I'd look forward to meeting a wraith," Rodney said, "But today I am. We'll fix this," he added, patting Carson's shoulder on his way out.

"So… six siblings… that must have hurt," Sheppard said thoughtfully. Teyla smiled, nodding.

"And he's the oldest," Rodney said.

"That explains a few things," Sheppard observed. "I wonder if he was so motherly with his siblings. Know anything about -"

"No," Rodney interrupted. He knew that Carson didn't get along well with the two he had mentioned in the letter, and he knew Carson never talked about his dad, so something must have been wrong there, but he didn't feel like talking about that.

"He never mentioned any of this," Sheppard added. "He's the kind of guy that everyone knows… you think you know everything about him, and then suddenly realise he's more secretive than anyone else."

Rodney just nodded to John's words and turned towards Teyla. "Do you sense anything?"

"No," Teyla answered, shaking her head. "I don't think there is a Wraith here."

Sheppard closed his eyes, "So this is another wasted day. Let's go back." 


	7. Chapter 7

Sixty. Carson was sixty. And apparently had some hearing problems, as he didn't answer the door. Rodney went in anyway and looked around for his friend.

The desk was full of little things, neatly arranged in a few groups. He must have arranged the things he wanted to give away anyway. His laptop, life sign detector and a few gadgets he had agreed to use were on the small coffee table.

"Carson," Rodney called when he saw the empty bed. "Are you here? Are you okay?"

Silence. Rodney walked out on the balcony, but found it empty. At 2100 hours Carson wasn't in his quarters.

"Elizabeth, where's Carson?" Rodney asked on the comm., trying to keep his voice levelled.

"The infirmary," Elizabeth replied softly. "They did all they could, but this was something they couldn't stop."

"What happened?" Rodney asked, already on his way to the nearest transporter.

"Heart attack. He didn't flatline," she added. "They said he wouldn't have made it if he had."

Rodney touched the transporter's panel and closed his eyes, trying to calm the wave of panic and anger that swept through him. When this was over, one way or another, the bastard who did this to Carson was going to pay.

The infirmary was quiet, as always. There were two curtained beds by the entrance and another one by the opposite wall, next to the entrance to Carson's office.

Rodney and his team had occupied that bed several times since coming here, and he knew it was 'reserved' somehow for those that needed to be supervised more closely by the CMO – or his replacement.

He walked over to the bed and moved the curtain aside enough to be able to slide through. Carson was lying in the bed, eyes closed, hands aligned next to his torso, IV and monitor lines arranged.

Rodney wanted to talk to him, but he knew there was nothing he could say to make Carson feel better. His friend needed to rest, needed to regain what little strength he had left.

Andrews was in Carson's office, looking at his laptop's screen intently. He didn't hear Rodney come in and raised his eyes, startled, when Rodney asked, "How bad is it?"

"It could have been much worse. I know it might sound strange, but we were expecting this," the doctor answered.

"Carson mentioned something about this, but I didn't expect a heart attack," Rodney admitted.

"Neither did we, but between this and renal failure… If things go as we expect them to, he'll have a day away from the infirmary. He'll be able to take his time and do what he wants to."

"Just a day?" Rodney asked, strained.

"We're ninety percent certain there'll be a day. Anything more than that is just luck and him being stubborn enough to fight this." Andrews paused for a bit, then added, "He started telling me about how he organizes things, what sort of supplies and personnel requests he's made at the SGC." His voice was a bit shaky, and he stopped, trying to compose himself. "I've been so focused on the disease that I didn't consider the patient and who he is…"

Rodney sat on a chair, "We didn't find anything. There was no one on the planet. The only idea we came up with that could save Carson turns out to be nothing. Did you manage to come up with anything?"

"As Carson said, the research for this would take weeks, if it were the only project we were working on." Andrews bowed his head. "Of all the doctors here, only a handful can actually work to help us with this. The others are willing, but they don't have the required knowledge. It would have gone faster if Carson could have helped us… but you know that already," the doctor said bitterly.

Rodney nodded, "It's not that I think you're all morons, but you know… medicine doesn't fall into equations."

"Medicine doesn't fall together as easily as equations do, no. If you have three computers, with the same error, you know what to do for all three. Humans don't work the same way. Humans feel. Humans hurt," Andrews said thoughtfully.

"I wanted to become a doctor, but I gave the idea up, just because of that. Humans are too random."

"Well then, I'd expect you to appreciate those who can do it," Andrew stated, looking straight at him.

"Expecting the red carpet, Doctor?" Rodney asked, with a bit of bite in his voice.

"No, but maybe you could tell Carson that you respect his job and what he's done. He might know you feel that way, but I think he'd feel better if you said it."

Rodney got up and nodded, without saying anything. Carson knew. Carson had to know. He had always teased him, joked about this, stored little facts and funny events for future banter.

Every time Sheppard went on one of his suicidal missions, Rodney prayed he'd come back, so life would move on without any major ruffles, adjusting and pain. He could move on, as he had in the past, but he had always hoped that whatever was controlling his life didn't hate him enough to make him go through this.

"Rodney, we need you in the control room," Sheppard's voice announced on his radio and he let his feet take him there. 


	8. Chapter 8

The Canadian guy at the controls was typing furiously on his laptop, as if it was the end of the world. Sheppard and Lorne were watching the display, squinting their eyes to see better.

"Why don't you put that on the big screen and explain what's going on?" Rodney suggested.

"Lorne remembered something," Sheppard said, as if that was going to clear things.

Rodney turned expectantly towards the Major.

"A month ago, we went to a village, quite primitive people. They had a Wraith, captive," Lorne explained.

"Why didn't you say this sooner? We could have saved 20 hours and -"

"He was offworld and didn't know about our idea. He just came back an hour ago and told me right away," Sheppard interrupted. "Elizabeth went to the planet, to see if we could do what we wanted to with this wraith."

Rodney nodded, looking at the display. "What are we looking at?"

"We need to be able to control it somehow – make sure he doesn't kill Carson," John explained.

"Carson's barely alive, why would the wraith want to drain a dying man?"

Lorne brought up the mission report on the display. "We don't know how they fed it, but I'm sure it would give or do anything for freedom. Motivation is not a problem. The problem is with making sure he doesn't try to feed on the others."

"So how do we control him?" Rodney asked, understanding their worries.

"Haven't found anything," Sheppard admitted. "I figured we could keep looking in the database until Elizabeth arrives."

It was 0200 when the wormhole came to life, letting a very tired Elizabeth step through.

Rodney and John were down by the stairs before the marines accompanying her had stepped through. "Well?"

She sighed, looking at them with sadness. "I couldn't convince them. They see this Wraith as some sort of good luck charm, as if they'll be spared from cullings if they have a wraith captive -"

"We'll give the villagers another wraith, and take this one, and this way we'll have something to use to make sure he doesn't kill Carson," Rodney said, updating her on their decisions.

"What?" Elizabeth asked.

"The promise of freedom. We'll let him go on some planet, just like we did with Sheppard's wraith," Rodney explained. John just nodded and waited quietly for her decision.

Elizabeth looked at the Canadian technician and ordered, "Dial PX-8765". Then, turning towards Sheppard, she added, "Find a place where we can take Carson and the Wraith. And find the Wraith for the trade."

The gate shut down after Elizabeth and her escort stepped through, and John turned towards Rodney, "Will you help me with finding the location?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

"And the Colonel and his team of marines should return with a Wraith," Rodney finished as Carson was slowly eating a bit of soup. He had recovered fairly well, and the doctors said he was going to be able to walk back to his quarters later in the evening.

Rodney tried to push aside the memories of the previous night's conversation and the thought that all this effort was done so that Carson could die in his own bed.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to go," Carson said, sipping another spoon of soup. "I'm thankful that you didn't," he added hurriedly.

"I thought we could talk a little, you know…" Rodney trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to talk about.

Carson smiled, "We've been through so many things, I can't think of what to start with."

Rodney knew this was the right time to tell Carson what he wanted to, but the knot in his stomach and unsteadiness of his voice made him decide to postpone it.

After a few minutes, Carson was done with his lunch and seemed exhausted. "Don't know what's more disturbing about it – the actual moment it happens or the aftermath."

"Did it happen when you were awake?" Rodney asked, afraid of the answer.

"Aye, I was in my office, sorting through some supplies. I think I left the infirmary without half the sleep pills," he said, smiling. He then turned to look at Rodney and sadness washed over his face. "I'm sorry I upset you the other day, I was focused on how I felt and what I wanted to be done and didn't think about how it was for you."

Rodney bowed his head and hoped that Carson couldn't see how much his words affected him, because he would apologize again and Rodney couldn't put up with that.

"I have this feeling of impending… doom," Carson continued, smiling at the last word. "Whenever we were in trouble, I thought I was going to die, and I was scared. But now… now I know, and it's unnerving. Sorry."

Rodney took Carson's right hand and squeezed. Carson's skin was drier now, with small spots on certain places, fragile, old. Carson looked like he was going to break with the next movement and Rodney knew it was his determination and stubbornness that helped him pull through it.

Rodney gave Carson the cup of steaming tea and sat down on the other armchair. The trip from the infirmary to Carson's quarters had been painful. Physically for Carson, who was obviously tired and weak, and emotionally for Rodney, who had been able to see the faces of those they passed by.

Some of them muttered words of encouragement, and Carson thanked them, but Rodney saw the way they were looking at him, as if it was the last time, as if they wanted to remember everything, every nuance.

"I always thought it would end like this," Carson said suddenly.

Rodney looked at him, surprised. "When you started medical school and started self diagnosing, you knew you were going to die because of an aging drug made by aliens?"

Carson raised an eyebrow and glared at him. "No, ye daft bugger. After coming here, to Atlantis. I knew I wasn't going to die peacefully in my bed." Carson paused for a moment, then continued, "I might die in my bed, but not of old… you know…"

"Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

Carson looked at him, surprised.

"I've been thinking about the right time and place and way to say this, but I might as well do it now."

Carson nodded, seeming a bit apprehensive.

"You know all the times I did nasty stuff to you… saying you're not as smart as I am and forcing you to do things? I –"

"You mean I am as smart as you are?" Carson interrupted, smiling.

"No, but will you be serious for a minute?" Rodney said, annoyed that he couldn't find his words; that Carson wasn't allowing him to speak.

"Were you serious when you said those things?" Carson asked, his smile fading away.

"No," Rodney said defensively.  
"I know. There's no need to tell me."

"I wanted you to know," Rodney admitted. "I wanted to make sure you knew, that I didn't offend you and you didn't say anything because you're too nice."

Carson tilted his head a bit, looking at him. "You're my friend."

Rodney nodded. "Yes. Thanks."

A few minutes later, Carson was asleep, snoring softly. Rodney took a blanket from the bedroom and placed it on Carson's sleeping form, praying that Sheppard would be back to tell them the exchange was done with and they could take Carson to PX-1767 and make him right again.

Rodney was fighting his body's need for sleep concentrating on the rise and fall of Carson's chest. Rise… fall… rise… fall… Rodney moved closer to Carson, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. Carson's chest didn't rise.

"Andrews, he's stopped breathing!" Rodney heard the despair in his own voice as if it was someone else's.

He didn't know what to do and he couldn't just sit there and watch. He took the blanket away and softly moved Carson down on the floor. Warm – he was still warm. Rodney massaged his chest, his hands, kept him warm until Andrews arrived.

It had been a few moments, but for Rodney it did feel like forever. Just as every movement around him was burnt into his memory. Andrews' orders, the nurses giving him the paddles, Carson's body jerking because of the electric charge, Carson's body falling back, still dead.  
The paddles touched Carson's chest again, and again his heart didn't react.

One of the nurses said something, and Andrews said through clenched teeth, "He can't get worse than this."

The third time, something happened and the doctor asked for some drugs, and turned towards Rodney. "We're stabilizing him, make sure he can go through the gate, and then we go to PX 767."

Rodney nodded numbly. As the gurney with Carson was wheeled out of the room, one of the nurses stopped, "He's alive, doctor McKay." She gently squeezed his right shoulder. "He's alive."

Rodney thanked her and hated his brain for the litany of 'for now' that it was providing him with.

Sheppard had to hurry. 


	9. Chapter 9

The small military base on PX 767 was damp and dark. In any other circumstances, he would have been worried about his health. But now, seeing Carson's pale skin and the exhaustion on his face, all that Rodney could do was pray.

Carson was conscious, or so the doctors said. He had opened his eyes about an hour ago, whispered something, then closed his eyes and stayed that way ever since.

It was as if he was a ghost, a frail body that didn't have anything in common with the Carson that he knew. Even the sparkling blue eyes were changed, darker, foggier somehow.

One of the marines' radio buzzed and they could all hear Sheppard as he announced, "Hold on, we're coming."

Andrews moved to Carson's side, took his vitals, told him a few words. The Scot seemed to be barely aware of what was going on around him. His eyes didn't open fully, but considering the dim lighting and Carson's poor vision, he didn't blame him for it.

When Sheppard walked in, Rodney was surprised he was still able to move. He seemed tired, more than ever, and worried.

Everyone in the room moved closer to the walls, leaving Carson's gurney in the centre. As they moved towards the door, Rodney asked, "How did it go?"

"We had two slip through our hands, and Matkins was a second away from being fed on by the one we captured."

Rodney nodded. "You did a good job."

The wraith entered the room, flanked by two marines. He had some strange devices on his hands, probably to ensure he didn't start feeding on his own accord.

Andrews adjusted the gurney and the pillows, so Carson was slightly elevated, and then fumbled with the doctor's gown. Even if it was a perfect silence in the room, Rodney couldn't hear the words that Andrews muttered to Carson. He just saw the Scot nod and then Andrews back away, leaving Carson on the gurney, with his chest exposed.

The marks from the paddles were obvious and Sheppard's hands tightened into fists. "Was he…"

"Yeah," Rodney replied, his voice a whisper.

Without a word, the wraith went to the bed and stretched out his right hand. Ronon stepped in front of him, right behind Carson's gurney and pointed his gun to the wraith's chest.

John advanced, taking the key from one of the marines. "You have to make him well again, and you'll be released. If you don't, you'll die."

Just when John was about to unlock the device on the wraith's hand, Carson raised his right hand in a stopping gesture.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did. I'm sorry you've been through all this trouble." Carson stopped for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. "And thank you for the time we've had. It was an honour."

Carson closed his eyes and John hurriedly removed the device. The wraith moved to the left of Carson's gurney and trailed the Scot's face with his index finger. Then, slowly, he placed his right hand on Carson's chest, pausing briefly when the man flinched.

"He is weak," the wraith said, piercing the skin with his nails. He waited for a moment then roughly pushed his hand against Carson's chest.

A heart-breaking scream erupted from Carson's chest and all the military men were holding their guns on the wraith. Carson's hair grew a bit whiter, but the only thing that Rodney could focus on were his eyes. Deep, clear blue, full of fear and pain.

After a few moments, the reverting process began and Rodney thought his heart would explode when the wraith finally drew his hand away, leaving a thirty eight year old Carson behind.

Sheppard nodded and the wraith was taken away, as the doctors and nurses turned their attention to Carson.

Rodney moved closer, trying to see past the medical staff. It seemed like the wraith's mark was on Carson's chest, and the doctors where trying to stop the bleeding.

Rodney wanted to do something, anything, but knew that if he moved closer, he'd be in their way, so he just stood where he was, a meter away from Carson's bed, softly swaying from one foot to the other.

One of the marines patted him on the shoulder and asked him if they should prepare to return to Atlantis. Rodney nodded, not sure if they were supposed to wait for Sheppard or not. Andrews came to them and explained that in twenty minutes, Carson would be ready to go through the gate.

He then patted Rodney's shoulder. "He's okay. He'll be fine." 


	10. Chapter 10

Staring at the piles of things on Carson's desk, Rodney wondered which one would have been his. He'd have to ask Carson about that after the Scot woke up.

It was two days since they returned and Carson had spent most of the time sleeping. At first, Andrews had insisted he stay in the infirmary for closer supervision, but then agreed to let him sleep in his quarters.

Andrews had also suggested that someone should be with him, so when Carson woke up, he wouldn't be alone. Rodney suspected he had nightmares, caused by the latest wraith-related experience, but he hoped he wouldn't find out. Not from trying to calm Carson down after one, anyway.

Carson had been unusually quiet during his few minutes of wakefulness, and Rodney wondered when all this was going to be over. He had no doubt Carson could keep quiet for a while, then put the happy man mask and go on for god knew how long, until something else happened and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

A soft mumbling noise came from Carson's bed and Rodney asked softly, "What did you say, Carson?" As far as he knew, Carson didn't talk in his sleep, so it was probably some sleep-induced request.

"Wa'er," he mumbled, a bit louder this time.

Rodney filled a glass and took it to Carson, gently supporting him as he tried to get up to a sitting position. After a few moments, the glass was empty and Carson slouched down on the pillows.

"I know I shouldn't feel this lousy… all the scans came back clean, but I'm so damn tired," he said, almost apologetically. "I know you have better things to do, but at the same time I don't want you to go."

"Don't worry, if I have to go, Sheppard could come, or Teyla," Rodney said, smiling.

"I'd rather you didn't."

Rodney looked at him, slightly surprised by the admission. "Me too."

Carson fell asleep shortly after that and Rodney tried to remember. Carson had told him things he hadn't told anyone else.

"He was sorry." Carson's voice was low, sad, puzzled.

"Sorry about what he did?" Rodney asked, pouring a bit of wine in Carson's glass and a bit more in his.

"No, he was sorry I made it through." Carson sat down on his armchair and accepted the glass of wine. After taking a sip, he put the glass down, closing his eyes. "I died in this chair."

"Don't ever remind me of that," Rodney said, his voice filled with dread.

"Sorry. It seems so distant now, so foreign," Carson admitted.

"I've been meaning to ask you two things."

"Aye," Carson said, eyes still closed.

"Two days ago, you said you would rather have me be here, than the others. Why?" Rodney knew Carson would say something about friendship, but he was somehow hoping for something different.

"I trust you."

That was certainly different. "Trust me to… what?"

"Understand." Carson kept his eyes closed, his head slightly tilted to his right, arms curled around his raised feet. "And the other question?"

"What were going to give me… of your things?"

Carson smiled, opened his eyes and looked at Rodney. "Everything."

"But… why?" Rodney asked, confused.

"I trust you. You would have known what to do with them better than me."

Rodney put the glass down and closed his eyes. A smile slowly made its way to his lips. 


End file.
